The Case of the Missing Girl
by Idkmullme
Summary: This is my first FanFic, so I apologise in advance if it's rubbish! This takes place a few months after the finale of season 3 and is just introducing a story that I hope to carry on for a while - I have some exciting stuff planned! I'm not sure when I'll be able to update next as the coming school year is going to be incredibly busy. I don't own any of these characters.
1. Chapter 1

**The Case of the Missing Girl**

Eleanor sighed again and checked her phone for the twentieth time.

"I thought that Liam was going to call you this evening?" Eleanor jumped and smiled at Sebastian, who had come out onto the balcony to join her in looking out over the Mediterranean, with - Eleanor noticed - two glasses of wine.

"He just texted to remind me - as if I'd forget." Eleanor lied; Sebastian didn't need to know all of the things that were bothering her at the present moment. She frowned. "Is that wine for me, or are you secretly an alcoholic?"

Sebastian grinned, "I thought that was more your thing, Princess."

Eleanor shrugged. "True, true. But you have to admit that I'm a lot better than I..." She trailed off and glanced at Sebastian's face before looking away somewhat guiltily. "Okay, fine, it is more my thing." Evidently, the empty scotch bottle that she'd put in the recycling had not gone unnoticed. Or, perhaps the fact that she'd turned up that morning to the viewing of one of the hotels she'd be styling hung-over.

Sebastian appeared to be taking an immense amount of interest in the view from the balcony as Eleanor checked her phone again.

"You know," Sebastian said, breaking Eleanor's short-lived solace in the comfortable silence between them, "there's still time to have a couple of hours at the beach before dinner, if you want to."

Eleanor grimaced, remembering her not-so-elegant appearance at the hotel that morning. "No, I think I need to make of for this morning and go back to looking at ideas for the layout of the honeymoon suite, it'll help me to take my mind off things."

Rather that pressuring her to explain what "things" she needed to be distracted from, Sebastian laid a hand on her shoulder. "Okay, let me know if you need anything – not that you need help with your designs!" Eleanor glanced at him curiously, intrigued by his sudden change in tone.

"Have you heard back from the hotel in Paris?" She asked excitedly.

"They loved it all! Sadly their text was in French, but I'm sure that them calling you a _pamplemousse_ high praise indeed." Sebastian smiled slyly, causing Eleanor to doubt his words. She grabbed her phone and typed the word into Google Translate (or an approximation of how the word was spelt anyway, after all, GCSE French was about five years ago now).

"You arse!" Eleanor exclaimed. "I am ninety-nine point nine percent certain that they did not call me a grapefruit!"

"It was worth a try." Sebastian mumbled and then gasped in pain as the heel of Eleanor's shoe came into contact with his bare foot. "I guess I deserved that."

Eleanor grinned and then immediately felt guilty: was she falling in love with Sebastian? _I'm not_ , she assured herself, looking out over the sea, _we just get along well, that's all_. Sebastian handed her the wine and leant against the balcony railings, giving Eleanor the impression of the Prince being very relaxed, almost at home in the afternoon sun of southern France. The Princess, however, could only feel at home if the windows were being pelted with rain, as it seemed to do every other day back home.

The colours in France were so much brighter to her; so much more vibrant than back home, the scenery so much more... _alive_. She loved that Sebastian had managed to open her eyes to a world outside of the stone walls of the palace, a world of beauty, and – most importantly – a world for her to discover for herself.

But she also felt restless. Restless and furious with herself for leaving behind unfinished business. Despite the joy she experienced while designing and creating, she worried about missing anything back home. She missed the intricate webs of secrets and lies that were made every day and worried endlessly about not being able to squeeze herself back into things. The isolation from her family, she told herself, was good for her. Sebastian was open, kind and, most importantly, was not about to stab her in the back, something that had become second nature to the Princess to look out for. She not only worried about herself; she worried about her brothers, about her mother and about Jasper. After all, the latter was one of the reasons that she had left, and, of course, one of the reasons that she had wanted to stay.

Sebastian turned to leave. "Sebastian," said Eleanor, "what do you think is going on back home? I miss my family. I know I shouldn't; but I do, no matter how screwed up our relationships with each other are."

The Prince thought for a moment. "I think that they miss you too. But I also think that they are so happy that you are away from all of the drama that goes on behind those palace gates- all of the secrets and lies. So, you shouldn't feel guilty about not being there for them. You know, with modern technology," he held up his phone, "you are only a call away."

Eleanor smiled kindly at his meagre joke. As always, Sebastian had read between the lines of Eleanor's question and found the real meaning of her words, a quality that she loved about him. She felt that she could say anything to him and he'd find a way to make her smile, or, if needed, give her a sturdy shoulder to cry on. She truly was grateful that she had gone with him, no matter what her fears were about the events back home.

"Thank you, Sebastian." Eleanor said and began to walk back into the flat that they were renting.

Then, her phone began to ring.

"James, hi, how are you? It's so great to finally hear from you! What's it been, like two months since I last heard from you?" said Eleanor eagerly, both relieved and disappointed that it wasn't an American voice at the other end.

"Princess, she's missing! The last time I saw her she told me that she was going to your room and then she didn't turn up to lunch even though I distinctly remember telling her very clearly that she was to be there at one o'clock sharp and now nobody claims to have seen her since ten this morning, except when I saw her about an hour later and I have no idea what to do!" This was all said incredibly quickly and in such a tone that Eleanor knew how serious the situation was, if only she could actually understand what James was trying to tell her.

"Whoa, whoa! Just hold on a second: tell me slowly and clearly. What's going on?"

Sebastian eyed the Princess' face with concern before gesturing to her that he was going to leave the balcony to give her some privacy. She nodded and shut the door behind him.

"It's Sarah-Alice. She's missing." James breathed in very deeply, evidently holding back tears. Hating to hear James in such a state of panic, Eleanor's heart went out to him- she knew firsthand what it was like to lose somebody that you cared deeply about, even if James' loss was just (hopefully) temporary.

"It's okay, James, we'll figure this out. Do you want to talk me through what you know? Then we can come up with a plan to find her, okay?"

A whispered conversation was going on at the other end. The phone changed hands, the hand receiving the mobile a lot steadier than James'. Then, another too-familiar voice took over.

"The last time he saw her was at about 10:45 this morning," Jasper's tone was business-like yet concerned, very much like the tone he'd used when talking to Sarah-Alice, except, of course, there was no need for him to disguise his accent. "It's now 16:20 and there's been no sign of her anywhere in the palace or in the grounds for at least..." He did some mental calculations. "... four hours and thirty five minutes."

Eleanor gazed across the sea, almost hoping that she would catch a glimpse of the girl's whereabouts in the glittering water. "Presuming that my brother knows, Robert this is, not Liam, we could ask him for some help. I'm sure he'd be happy to lend us a few of his best to help look for her."

Jasper sighed, although he was secretly pleased with her use of pronouns ("us" and not "you") he wasn't pleased with what he'd have to say next. "At the moment, all we know is that a seven-year-old child is missing. That's not something that the King of England needs to be aware of, especially given what's going on right now."

Worried by the other things that Jasper was implying were "going on", Eleanor thought for a moment. "What's that supposed to mean?" She demanded, her voice rising in pitch, "my brother is a good man with a kind heart – no matter who he is, I'm sure that-"

"Len, listen to me." Jasper said, not raising his voice but putting more urgency into his words, "Your brother, given the chance, wouldn't give a damn about anyone other than himself, I should know. You tend to learn a lot about someone when you're their security detail."

Eleanor ignored his callous referral to the roots of their relationship. "What about Liam?"

"Now is really not the time to be discussing Liam."

"Okay..." said Eleanor slowly. That was going to be a really fun conversation for later: a conversation to add to the already very full list of things that Eleanor needed to discuss with Jasper. "Anyway, why did James call me: I'm in Nice-

"I know."

"-and," said Eleanor, annoyed by his interruption, "I'm pretty sure that I would know if a seven-year-old was trying to break in to my flat. It's a girl thing."

"Len," Jasper began softly, "She said that she was going to _your_ room. Therefore, we have every reason to believe that in her mind, you room is wherever you are."

"Shit." whispered Eleanor.

"Yeah." agreed Jasper. They were silent for a few moments, with all of the things that each of them wanted to say just out of reach.

"Should I come home?" asked Eleanor, hoping above everything in the entire world that he'd say yes.

"As much as I think that that is a good idea, we need someone at your end, really, to keep an eye out. We also need to keep this a secret. The King must not know about this."

"Why not?" inquired Eleanor, still very much offended on Robert's behalf at Jasper's (and apparently James') lack of faith in the contents of her brother's heart.

"He'd fire us if he found out the real reason for the head of the Royal Family's security and his own personal security detail taking a week's holiday at the same time, other than it being a really weird coincidence. Furthermore, this job is pretty much all I have right now, so... I'd rather not lose that too." Jasper trailed off. The Princess could imagine his face, the expression of loss that would be on it. At least, the expression that would be hidden by a façade of stoic immovability, but she knew it was there. She knew what was in his heart. (He had literally pulled it out and ripped it open for her to see a few nights before she left.)

"Okay," Eleanor said softly, "I understand. How about Sebastian? He could stay here and I could help the search back home."

"Do you trust him?" Jasper asked; his heart in his mouth. He was unsure what response he wanted from her. If she said yes, then he'd get to see her that very day. If she said no, he had a chance at winning back her love – he didn't want to compete with someone who made her feel happy, someone who helped her to feel comfortable and calm.

"Yes. With my life." Eleanor meant this, no matter how confused her heart was over the Prince.

"That is more than enough for me." Said Jasper. "I'll let the French Government know that you are in need of a plane immediately. Be at the airport in exactly an hour." His tone reminded her briefly of the Jasper before they'd recognised that they were in love, the bodyguard who'd guided her around her own room to all of the loaded firearms that he'd kept in there. Unexpectedly, he hung up, leaving Eleanor with only the sound of her own inhales and exhales for company.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hi guys! I'd like to thank you all for the positive feedback I've been receiving; it's great to know what you think, so please keep reviewing – if anybody spots anything with the plot or characters that doesn't seem right, let me know. I want this to be right for you all. This chapter isn't very exciting (way to sell it, I know!) but I think it's important (at least for me!) to establish the scene and characters, and really just to get the story going in the right direction. I'm going to try to update every Sunday in school holidays but it does get a little tricky when school starts again, but I'll do my best. I'm hoping to really get into this story, and, with any luck I'll keep it running even when Season 4 starts. Without any further ado... here is chapter 2, I hope you enjoy it.**_

The Case of the Missing Girl Part 2

As the plane touched down, all of the fears and anxieties that Eleanor had been pushing down for so long slammed into back into her. She felt torn between yelling to the pilot to take off again and taking the controls for herself in a desperate attempt to find Robert's island and live there for the rest of her life. Unfortunately, she couldn't convince her body to do either. She shook her head, clearing her mind temporarily. Rising, Eleanor smiled at her decision to wear flat shoes to return home in rather than her usual heels as her head gently skimmed the low ceiling of the aircraft.

Outside, she could see a small, brave group of photographers and journalists all clumped together, battling the driving rain. Not one of them spoke, the icy spring rain having, quite literally, dampened their spirits.

Thoughts of spirits aside, Eleanor gratefully received an umbrella from an exhausted-looking air hostess and hurried down the stairs from the plane. A black Mercedes waited at the bottom, its windscreen wipers tirelessly fighting on, despite the negligible effect that they had on clearing the rain.

She couldn't turn back now. It's for Sarah-Alice; she reminded herself and took a deep breath, diving into the car.

"Len!" A familiar voice shouted, "I've missed you so much!"

"I've missed you too Liam!" Eleanor said, giving him a mock punch on the arm, "I didn't expect you to come out and meet me, especially not in this weather!"

"Somebody had too- unfortunately, I drew the short straw on this occasion!" Eleanor gave him a real punch on the arm. The car started to move off, spraying the press with more water. A camera flashed. Eleanor put her window down slightly and gave the photographer a royal wave – and a slightly less royal gesture – before rescuing her hand from becoming too soaked.

"How are you, anyway?" Eleanor asked, worried as to what Liam's response would be. His hair looked messy and unwashed, complimenting the bags under his eyes rather well.

"I'm great, Len. How are you?" Liam replied in a voice doing nothing to disguise the fact that he was a long way from being fine. "I can't believe you're so tanned!"

"Quite good actually." Said Eleanor, glancing down at her arms, which, she supposed, were slightly darker than they had been before she'd left. Yet, Eleanor didn't really tan, she burned. _A sound metaphor for my life really,_ the Princess thought bitterly. The twins looked at each other.

Liam sighed. "Let's cut the bullshit, Len. I'm terrible. The only things that are keeping me going right now are cider and the thought that you are safely away from all of this drama and are genuinely happy."

Eleanor snorted and looked out into the rain. She could see people rushing to and fro underneath black umbrellas, running the endless race that life in London seemed to enter them into. When she was younger, she had been glad of not being like the average Londoner, glad of not being stuck in an office, stuck in traffic, stuck with nowhere to go at the end of the day except a cold flat in Arsenal with a leaky drainpipe outside the bedroom window. Now, she had never felt more trapped.

"Evidently, I'm going to need a lot more cider." Said Liam, only half joking.

Eleanor made a face. "I thought that you had better taste in drink than that, big brother."

"Cyrus only gives me the cheapest stuff he has. Fortunately, there's a lot of it. I'll show you the stash when we get back, if you want." Liam's smile faded. "Jasper, is Robert busy today? Are we safe?"

Eleanor almost jumped. She felt stupid for not recognising their driver, her hands tensing slightly in her lap as a flood of emotions flew through her head. Before Jasper could answer Liam's questions, she cleared her throat, "Hang on, aren't you _Robert's_ security detail? How did _you_ , of all people, managed to get leave to come and pick me up?"

Jasper exchanged glances with Liam in the rear-view mirror (while still managing to keep a large amount of his attention on the road, something that Eleanor doubted she'd ever master) with a question in his eyes. Liam nodded.

"I'm technically still on duty. I swapped with Rosie, who has been Liam's detail while you've been away. Seeing as Rosie can't drive, I managed to convince _His Majesty_ ," Jasper said these words with a hint of sarcasm and a bucket full of scorn, "that you had had an argument with the palace driver on the way to the airport before you left and that I would be able to accompany Liam to pick you up." He paused. "So, Rosie went with Robert to a meeting with the PM and I ended up driving this stupid car in this stupid British weather."

Liam and Eleanor at once became defensive. "Our weather is fine!" Liam declared; a glint of amusement in his eyes. "It gives us something to complain about!" Eleanor nodded enthusiastically.

Jasper decided to change the subject. "So, in response to your questions: yes, I am Robert's security detail, for now anyway, and Robert will not be present on your arrival back at the palace. The Queen and Cyrus, however, will. Although, I'm not sure what state Cyrus will be in."

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Same old Uncle Cyrus, huh?"

They were all silent.

"I'm not sure if either of you will like this question, but why can't-" Eleanor started.

As if he'd read her mind, Jasper answered. "Because we want to avoid any unnecessary interaction between you and your brother for now, at least until we've filled you in on everything that's been going on while you've been away."

Liam angled his head away from Eleanor at Jasper's words, appearing to be slightly embarrassed.

"Then," Jasper continued, "you will be the one to talk to Robert, knowing what we know about him, while also loving him as his sister."

Eleanor turned to her brother, who was scowling. "You don't love Robbie?" She asked, unable to believe this.

"I'm not sure, Len. I haven't been for some time now. It's difficult, you know?" Liam looked beseechingly at Eleanor, as if he was willing her to understand.

"No." Eleanor replied, in a hard tone. "Loving people is easy. It's trusting them that is the hard part."

Jasper let out a stream of expletives at a driver that had just cut in front of them and swerved the car violently, only just missing an elderly pedestrian. Then, impossibly, the world felt like it was completely still.

"Exactly." said Liam, his voice barely above the volume of a whisper. "You're the only one that Robert trusts, out of all of us. He may love some of us because we're his family, but he loves and trusts you out of choice. And, most importantly, so do we: all of us."

Jasper's eyes rested on hers in the rear-view mirror as they pulled up at the foot of the palace steps. Eleanor tried and subsequently failed to tear hers away from his, some kind of invisible force making her unable to look away.

Liam carried on, not entirely oblivious to the growing tension inside the car, "There is not one of us in the palace who doesn't trust you. There is not one of us who does not love you."

Eleanor sat on her bed, a million memories circling her head, each travelling at a million miles per hour. She heard fractions of each but was unable to catch any, unable to quieten her restless mind.

A knock on the door at last broke her reverie. Liam came in and sat beside her. He looked tired and smelt distinctly of apples.

"Are you okay with this?" He asked, cautiously. She'd texted him earlier, demanding that he tell her everything once she'd unpacked this evening. Her case, however, still stood by the door and was still filled with clothes, as if waiting to be picked up and then taken abroad once more. "It seems bad right now, but, I'm telling you, it's about to start looking a whole lot worse."

Eleanor nodded, unable to form a reply that would communicate the immense amount of dread that she could feel building in her stomach, climbing up the back of her throat and wreaking havoc in her brain.

"I mean," said Liam, anxiety flitting across his face at the lack of a response from his sister, "I know you're worried about Sarah-Alice – I am too – but there's been a heck of a lot more than that going on."

Eleanor smiled sadly and moved her head so that it rested gently on Liam's shoulder, comforted by its warmth. "I shouldn't have left."

Liam absent-mindedly twirled a piece of her hair around his finger, letting a familiar silence fill the room.

"I want to hear it," Eleanor whispered, "all of it."

The force in her quiet words startled Liam. "I just need you to promise me that when I've told you everything that you won't think about me, or any of us, differently." He said this loudly, as if trying to appear confident. As always, Eleanor saw through his façade.

"I-" Eleanor began, and then abruptly shut her mouth. Could she really promise her brother not to change what she thought about any of the inhabitants of the palace after hearing everything that had gone on behind its walls in her absence?

She thought about it, her mind skimming over each person in turn.

James: he'd been there for her when she'd needed a shoulder to cry on, certainly. But, how well did she really know him? Then again, he trusted her enough to ask for her help when he needed it.

Her mother: it stuck Eleanor how similar she was to her mother – passionate, creative and independent. Yet, Eleanor had no trust in her mother's ways, having been wounded far too many times by the Queen's icy tongue.

Cyrus: well... Eleanor was sure that her opinion of him would not be changed by what Liam had to say.

Her brothers: both of whom she loved. And yet, hadn't she got to know Liam a lot better since Robert's "death"? Then, Robert had never really accepted her relationship with Jasper. Whereas, Liam had been there throughout the... rollercoaster of a relationship she'd had with the bodyguard.

She closed her eyes. Jasper. _Later_ , she thought. It was not the time for her to think about the pieces of her shattered heart that he still owned, or the pieces he'd left of his for her to pick up.

Eleanor sighed, turning to her brother. "I promise that I will still love you, no matter what you tell me."

She hoped that he understood from her words that she would always love him, but, after hearing what he had to say, would form her own opinion about whether he was worthy of her trust. She didn't know what to think about anyone any more, even her own twin. _But_ , she thought, _I trust Liam right now. I trust that he will tell me the truth, don't I?_ Maybe it was reckless and stupid of her to trust anyone after the endless back-stabbing and blackmail that had taken centre-stage in her life before she had left. But, she had to trust somebody, sometime.

"Tell me everything."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hi guys! Thank you so much for all of the reviews, again, I really appreciate them – I want to make this story work, so please let me know if I've made any mistakes in the plot of the show that took place before Part 1. This Part/Chapter/whatever was difficult to write. The first bit was okay but the second bit got me really stressed as I wanted it to be right and realistic. After I'd written it I felt like it could have been better: it's not perfect and I might revisit it if you guys want me to. So please tell me what you think about this chapter and the direction that I'm taking you in! Enjoy!**_

 **The Case of the Missing Girl – Part 3**

And so he told her everything. Everything about Kathryn, about the guilt that he felt over Ted Pryce's murder (after all, he'd killed the father of a girl he still wasn't certain that he was over) and about how Robert hadn't come back to the palace at the earliest opportunity. He knew that he'd already told her some of it, yet the words just seemed to fall out of his mouth, each one lifting a huge weight off of his chest. At last, having only paused when Rosie had entered the room to check on the Princess, he ran out of words.

"I'm still not sure if I believe you, Liam. He is our brother, at the end of the day and I don't want to jump to any conclusions." Said Eleanor, not sounding terribly convinced at her own words. She shook her head and lay back on her bed, inhaling the new smell of the sheets. A part of her wondered if they'd changed the detergent, it was more bitter smelling now, just adding to the sense of unfamiliarity that the palace gave her – even her own bed felt different.

"You've been away for four months," argued Liam softly, not appearing to want to fight with her. _Wow,_ Eleanor thought, _everything really has changed._ "We've had plenty of time to find proof and analyse it. You think I want it to be true?"

 _I don't know, Liam, do you?_ She wanted to ask. _You seem to want the throne pretty badly._

Instead, she scowled. "And 'we' being who exactly? You and James?" she asked hopefully, whilst knowing who 'we' was even before she'd thought of asking.

Liam raised his eyebrows. "No, James didn't want to hear anything about it, least of all get involved with-" he shut his mouth abruptly, took a shaky breath and went on. "He said that he was close enough to losing his job as it was, whatever he meant by that." _Another fun conversation for later,_ thought Eleanor.

Her brother continued. "Jasper and I have been working on a few things to help with the-" He trailed off.

Eleanor sat up slowly, glaring into her brother's eyes, almost like she was trying to extract the secrets that he held in his heart through them.

"There's more, isn't there?" she pushed, not bothering to let her brother tell her in his own time – the time for tiptoeing around their problems was long gone. "What aren't you telling me?"

She watched her brother swallow many different attempts at answering her questions before he finally decided on the right one and spoke again.

"There was a plot." He ran his hand through his hair. "Somebody planned to kill Robert."

Eleanor opened her mouth to swear, to demand the reason, to say _anything_ but Liam cut her off, anxiety racing across his face. She became aware that it was still raining, although it was a distant awareness, like she was trapped in a bubble.

"Not now, Len. If I stop now, I'll never be able to get it all out." Liam's eyes darted around the room as if he was trying desperately not to look Eleanor in the eye, reminding Eleanor of the time that they'd been running around the palace and he'd run into an 18th century vase, breaking it into hundreds of pieces and had then had to explain to their mother what had happened. "People think that..." He stopped, and then carried on, unable to stop himself. "People think that Cyrus and I were planning to kill Robert. It was so well thought out, every detail, like the person knew Robert well. It was so well thought out that everything pointed to us as the... the..." _Murderers,_ Eleanor finished in her head, _well, attempted murderers._

"What?" Eleanor demanded, her voice going up in pitch by at least an octave. "Liam! Tell me that you had nothing to do with this! To Hell with Cyrus – Liam! Tell me that you wouldn't! ... You wouldn't, right? ... Would you?"

"I hate him, Len, I really do."

Eleanor gasped, the blood running from her head, making her feel frozen from the waist upwards.

"But he's still my brother. And I couldn't do that – I couldn't kill him, no matter how much I hate him." Liam's voice was calm and steady, as it would be if he were talking to a child.

"You wouldn't plan to kill him. Even if you knew that you couldn't go through with it?" She looked up to the ceiling, wishing herself back under the Mediterranean sun – ignorant of all of the secrets and lies that the palace contained.

Her brother turned to her. "No." His eyes bored into her own, begging her to declare her utmost faith in him, to tell him that she believed him and that she would trust him to the edge of the world and back again.

Instead, Eleanor suddenly felt very tired.

"Is that everything?" she asked, keeping every last bit of emotion out of her voice. It make her sound more exhausted that she felt, which would have impressed her had she not been on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

Liam at last looked her in the eye, confusion and concern showing on his face.

"Yeah," he said, "that's everything."

He appeared to want to say something else, however Eleanor, overwhelmed with fatigue, loneliness and a very strong urge to get high off her arse, held up a hand.

"Get out of my room, Liam."

Hurt flashed in Liam's eyes, hope draining out of them. Eleanor threw herself back down, not wanting to watch him leave. Watching him leave would only add to how alone she felt; how useless she felt. After all, she'd been back for over three hours and had done nothing to help James to look for Sarah-Alice, had fallen out with her brother, avoided her other brother, all without even unzipping a bag. Not even her make-up bag.

A text came through on her phone, the alert tone teasing her with its bright sound.

Sorry I wasn't there to meet you. Get some rest; you deserve it after all of your hard work abroad. See you at breakfast. Mum x

Eleanor chucked her phone onto the left pillow, resting her head on the right one.

"I shouldn't have come back." She whispered into the pillow, at long last allowing tears to flow. Within seconds, her body shook with sobs: sobs that spoke of regret, fear, loss, anger and self-hatred.

Longingly, she thought of her drugs. She'd been away from them for too long, so long that her heart quickened its pace just from the thought of them. _I promised James that I'd try,_ she reminded herself gently – too gently. Eleanor at once became engulfed in the hunger of the addiction. She needed it, the reprieve it would give her from everything, even if it would only last for a few hours, until she fell asleep if she was lucky.

She sprung off her bed, energised by the thought of getting high, by the thought of finally being able to forget everything. Ripping the drawer out of her vanity, her heart pulsing in her chest, she paused: it was empty. Hadn't she left something in there, just in case? Angrily, she cursed James and his tidying – he must have moved them. Or maybe he'd thrown them out. Dizzy with adrenalin, she began to cry again, tearing her room apart for anything that could possibly give her the high that she so desperately needed.

Then, the door to her bedroom opened.

"Hey." A voice said.

It was a voice that she heard in her head every day, every hour, every minute. A voice that told her, commanded her to keep going, even when she felt that she could go on no more. She loved that voice – but she also hated it. She hated it so much that the hate consumed every part of her body, making her shake with anger, her previous hunger for her drugs completely forgotten.

"I really don't feel like talking to you right now." She spat, her back to the voice.

"That's okay."The voice replied, his voice betraying no emotion. Eleanor could easily imagine his face – a perfect mask of carefully constructed reactions and expressions; a mask that she wasn't sure ever had really been taken off.

"In fact," continued the Princess, as if he hadn't spoken, "I don't think that I'll ever feel like talking to you again."

Still, she didn't turn around, not trusting herself to look at his face, too look into his eyes. She didn't trust that her eyes would show the hatred that she was putting into her words – perhaps they would have hatred in them, but not enough.

The voice took a step closer. "Eleanor, I'm-"

Eleanor whirled around.

"Don't say it." She snapped, "We both know that it isn't enough; that it will never be enough."

Neither of them moved. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, suffocating, even.

"Why are you here, Jasper? To film me and blackmail me with it? To ask me where my mother is so that you can sleep with her? To steal some of my jewellery? To-"

"James." Jasper said, his voice only just audible.

"What?" Eleanor exclaimed, "Are you dating him now? Or maybe-"

"James wants to see you at ten o'clock tomorrow morning." He paused. "That is, if you still want to help find Sarah-Alice?"

Eleanor's eyes widened, Jasper's words bringing back her doubts about herself, about how everybody saw her. He was baiting her; he wanted her to get angry and lose control.

"Of course I want to help." She said, surprising even herself at the calmness of her tone.

Jasper's eyes found hers. His gaze then fell back to her feet; almost as if he was afraid of what he'd seen.

"I understand that I can't tell Robert anything about this." Eleanor said. "I don't understand why. But I know that James will have his reasons."

The bodyguard's head flew up, startling Eleanor when she noticed just how tired he looked: dark circles framing his eyes, stubble left neglected on his chin and lines on his forehead that she was sure hadn't been there before she'd left.

"He does." Jasper said quietly.

Eleanor nodded. "Okay." She managed, not wanting to say anything at all, "Okay."

"Is there anything you need, Your Highness?" _His American accent is less noticeable,_ she thought, her mind wandering. Another, less kind voice spoke in her mind: _or maybe he just doesn't trust you enough to truly be himself around you anymore._ Eleanor closed her eyes _,_ roughly bringing herself back to reality.

"No." Eleanor lied. "Everything's fine."

Jasper inclined his head. When he looked up, his eyes were shining. Of course he didn't believe her. He, out of everyone, knew her the best.

"There are so many things we-" he broke off at a spark of anger in Eleanor's eyes. Her face was pale, her eyes surrounded by mascara, eyeliner and tears.

"Don't." She said through gritted teeth. "Not now."

Jasper's face fell. For a fraction of a second his mask slipped. Eleanor could see everything that he was feeling, thinking, hoping. All of the things that she could feel, she could see on his face, in his heart. Then, the mask returned, nailed on even more securely than before, with no instructions or guidance on how to take it off again.

"Goodnight, Princess."

Eleanor turned away. She didn't want to look him in the eye again. Not with the fear that she might never see behind the mask ever again. Not with the fear that she might never have seen behind the mask, even when they'd been together. _If we've ever really been together in the first place,_ Eleanor thought bitterly.

Her head hurt. Her heart hurt even more.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thank you all so much for sticking with this story! This may be the last part for a little bit because I'm going back to school and it's going to be incredibly hectic this year. Anyway, please keep reviewing, it's really good to hear what you guys think about the story and the direction that it's going in! This chapter isn't that exciting (I'm brilliant at selling this) but it's pretty important and, again, sets the story in motion.**_

 **The Case of the Missing Girl – Part 4**

All she could see was white.

Then, a searing pain shot through her. She opened her eyes. The source of the pain became clear: she was awake, for one, and could remember everything that had taken place on the previous day. For two, the sun was shining through her bedroom window directly into her eyes.

Eleanor groaned, burying her face into her pillow, which was stained with make-up and tears. She had fallen asleep at around eleven o'clock after staring at the ceiling since Jasper had left her room at nine. The last time she had fallen asleep that early felt like a lifetime away – her father's lifetime away.

Pushing regrets and thoughts of her father aside, Eleanor climbed out of bed, swearing. She headed into her bathroom.

"Ugh," she said. Her mother, had she been present would have given her a scathing look. Helena had always prided herself and her family at their articulate way of speaking, something that was neglected by a large percentage of the "common" population.

Glaring back at her from the mirror was a thing that Eleanor was quite sure was a raccoon. Although she had never actually seen a raccoon in real life, Eleanor was certain that a raccoon would most likely be insulted if anybody dared to say that the Princess looked like it. _**(A/N (I digress.))**_

Sighing, she wiped her eyes with a cotton ball, revealing bruise-like circles underneath them. For a reason unknown to her, she, instead of reaching for her eyeliner, splashed her face with cold water and walked out of her bathroom. Not even bothering to dry her face, she slipped on a pair of black leggings and a plain t-shirt. Her hair, she knew, was a mess, a million miles from what it had been when she was away. She found that she didn't care.

Eleanor sat on her bed, her thoughts surprisingly sharp, each one a needle flying up to her, pricking her on the thumb and then flying away again. She was in pain, but couldn't quite work out where the pain was. The princess took a deep breath and stood up, expecting the blood in her head to rush to her feet. Instead, the blood didn't seem to want to flow anywhere, making her feel numb and cold. She didn't feel entirely in control of her body, her limbs reacting seconds after her brain told them to move, frustrating her. That said, she didn't feel entirely in control of anything anymore.

Her legs took her to breakfast. Or rather her nose and stomach did: a salty smell was in the air, like a trail of breadcrumbs. At the end of the trail, however, was not a gingerbread house. It was bacon.

"Lenny, hi!"

And the King of England.

Eleanor tried to mould her face into a smile.

"Robbie!" she cried, "It's great to see you again!" In truth, she was unsure if her heart really believed that it was in fact "great" to see him again, but, her brain told her to say it so she said it. She wasn't in the mood to think about how she actually felt about seeing her brother again.

"Are you okay, darling?" her mother's voice came from beside Robert. "You look..." she trailed off, as if she hadn't decided on a fitting ending for that sentence. She probably hadn't.

"She looks constipated," said Cyrus, smiling humourlessly at his niece, a smell of beer reaching Eleanor from halfway across the room telling her that he had already been drinking. Eleanor noticed with genuine amusement that he was wearing what appeared to be a penguin onesie, a far cry from his usual stylish outfits. _Each to their own,_ Eleanor thought. It wasn't as if she hadn't done stupid things whilst under the influence of either alcohol or drugs, sometimes both. She shook her head internally.

Externally, she relaxed her face.

Cyrus chuckled. "And there was me thinking that she actually was constipated." He grinned expectantly until hearing a snort from behind Eleanor. His face fell when his gaze found the source of the noise. "My jokes must be worse than I thought," he muttered, staring into his tea cup. He then downed his tea in one gulp, grabbed a hip flask from inside his onesie, poured the contents into the china cup and then downed that too.

Helena watched him, her face a picture of pure horror. At any other time, Eleanor would have laughed at the situation. Instead, she whirled around, finding a blushing Rosie a couple of steps behind her.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Your Highness," she stammered, "I have no idea where that came from. It won't happen again."

But Eleanor's attention was already elsewhere. _Of course_ he's _here,_ she thought. She glared at him before turning away and taking the empty seat beside her uncle.

Her mother regarded her, her face displaying an emotion that Eleanor hadn't seen on her all that often: concern. In fact, Eleanor was surprised that she could even distinguish it from the other feelings in her mother's eyes, having never really been any good at noticing any variation in them aside from anger into disappointment.

"How did you sleep?" she asked, almost gently.

Eleanor thought for a second. "It was nice to be back in my own bed." She grimaced at her own words, imagining her uncles' reply – _"not in somebody else's. That makes a change!"_

To her amazement, it was not Cyrus but her brother who spoke next.

"I know the feeling," he said sympathetically, passing her a slice of toast topped with, to her utmost delight, bacon.

Helena smiled a tight lipped smile as the room fell silent. It wasn't a very comfortable silence.

"So, Len," Robert began, "It's the question that, until now, that is, we've all been too polite to ask: how come you've come back so early? The last time you called you sounded like you were planning on staying there for as long as possible, perhaps even after the six month trip."

Eleanor could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on her. The staff, the security, and the few members of her family who were present were all looking at her, something that she'd usually be filled with pride at. Today, she wanted to close her eyes and wish herself far away. She swallowed.

"Sebastian and I fell out. It was nothing serious but we thought that having some time away from each other would be good, you know, just to make sure that our friendship didn't break down because of some little thing." She'd always been a better liar than either of her brothers. It had always got her out of trouble, blaming a smashed plate, a broken heart on somebody else. Now, on the other hand, she felt like she was digging herself into a hole filled with more lies that she would have to tell, a hole that nobody would be able to help her out of.

Oblivious to Eleanor's inner worries about her lies, her mother got up, walked around the dining table to her daughter's chair and wrapped her arms around her. Over her mother's shoulder, Eleanor caught Cyrus' eye. He was watching her thoughtfully, as if he was seeing something in her that he hadn't seen before, yet wasn't particularly surprised by its appearance. Her uncle bent his head, only a few degrees to ensure that Eleanor was the only one who saw, but enough to convey a message: he knew about Sarah-Alice.

Her mother released her from the embrace, meeting her eyes while crouching down beside her chair.

"Oh Eleanor," she whispered, a tear running down her cheek. Eleanor wiped the tear away with her thumb, her mind transporting her back to a happier time, when she was painting her room with Jasper.

"Because people like you, Princess." He had said. _Indeed they do,_ thought Eleanor. _I've still got no clue why, though._

Eleanor was snapped back to reality by the king's voice, coming from by the door, behind Eleanor.

"...well I must be off, anyway. I'm meeting Willow in an hour." He turned to his bodyguard who was intently staring at the carpet, avoiding the eyes of all off the royal family. "You coming, Jasper?" he said in his slightly mocking American accent. The poor excuse of a joke did nothing to lighten the atmosphere of the room.

"Of course, Your Majesty." He replied, his American accent not even barely audible. He'd obviously been working on his cover during the last three months.

Robert smirked and gave a theatrical bow to the room before exiting, his security detail a pace behind him.

Eleanor decided to be blunt. "I see no-one bothered to remove the stick from his arse while I was away. Not even you, Mum." She stated.

Her mother's cheeks coloured. "It's a long story." Her voice was sad, Helena's thoughts obviously somewhere else.

"Aren't they all," said Cyrus.

"Aren't they all," agreed Eleanor softly.

Cyrus looked her in the eye. "He doesn't approve of how you behaved when he disappeared, you know."

Defensive of her own actions, Eleanor glared back at him. "You can't talk." _You drove into my father's memorial, for one,_ she thought.

"At least I didn't get high at an old people's home and try to steal a puppy," her uncle retorted.

Helena, her eyes flitting from Cyrus to her daughter, sighed and held her head in her hands.

"I wasn't high all the time!" She raised her voice. "In fact, I helped someone at a rehab centre and she's been clean now for, oh, I don't know, nearly a year. Which, by the way, is longer than you've ever been and I helped her more than you've ever helped anyone in your pathetic life!" Eleanor knew that she wasn't making that much sense and that she was probably not in the right in that particular argument but it was a good release of her pent-up anger, so, she figured, it was okay.

"It seems this family has quite a record at that place." Cyrus said in a flat voice, looking up at the priceless chandelier.

"What do you mean?" asked Eleanor, her anger at Cyrus fading, replaced by curiosity. She studied her uncle's face, and finding no answers from him, turned to her mother.

"It's not really a conversation to have at breakfast, darling." Her mother's face revealed nothing, even as she took a bite of her toast.

Eleanor stood up suddenly, her chair rocking back dangerously but not falling.

"I am sick and tired of not knowing what is going on!" her voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "I am sick and tired of thinking that it can't get any worse and then being told, five minutes later, that there's more!"

Neither her mother nor her uncle appeared to have anything to say in response to her outburst, having been forced into a stunned silence.

"I'll meet you by the lake, Mother."

Eleanor spun on her heel and stalked out of the room, her head pounding. She was nearly at the end of the corridor when a suited figure rounded the corner, meaning that she had to stop. Anger rose in her.

"You'd better have some good news or I am going to-" she broke off, Jasper's expression confusing her.

His face was red and he was out of breath, his eyes were wide, making the blue in them look darker, stormier. He opened his mouth to speak, at first letting out no sound. Then his voice rang through the corridor, though he spoke quietly.

"We've found her."


End file.
